Room 48
by InkyCoffee
Summary: "She glanced down at the slip of paper on the passenger seat, crossed with the hasty scrawl of the address. Yup. This was the place, all right." What if, in Headhunters, Castle found himself dumped out in the sticks mid-investigation by Slaughter? Belated birthday present for the lovely Nic/ColieMacKenzie. Twoshot. Rating will go up in the second chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a very belated birthday present for the dear, lovely, SUPER talented Nic/ColieMacKenzie who asked for "Castle and Beckett having to share a hotel room and it leads to sexytimes." My brain, of course, wanted to set it in the 47 Seconds angst arc, because that's where my brain wants to set all the prompts, so this is an AU on Headhunters. Please forgive me bending canon to suit. **

**This story would never have been written without three amazing ladies. MarmelFred, your patience with me is as endless as the stream of "look, I wrote 3 words!" emails your inbox was bombarded with. Bec, you allow my inner dirty old man the freedom to excitedly shake his walking stick – I wouldn't dream of writing M!fic without your support. Kellie, your "brutal, ruthless editing" makes my words shine. All three of you have made me a better writer, and I'm so grateful for you. **

**This chapter is rated T; a second chapter, written but not fully edited, will (eventually – essays first, sorry, kids! Might be a couple of weeks!) follow, at which point the rating will change to M.**

**Castle belongs to AWM and ABC. **

* * *

_**What if, in Headhunters, Castle found himself dumped out in the sticks mid-investigation by Slaughter? **_

* * *

She threw the car into park, killed the engine, and took a moment to get her bearings. The hotel was a complete cliché, a two-storied wooden structure teetering in an L-shape around a parking area that had more potholes than asphalt. The lazy flicker of neon drew attention to the fact that almost half of the hotel's freestanding sign on the roadside had long since ceased to function. It was the kind of joint that rented rooms by the hour and threw in the cockroaches for free, and Beckett found herself wrinkling her nose in distaste.

She glanced down at the slip of paper on the passenger seat, crossed with the hasty scrawl of the address.

Yup. This was the place, all right.

It helped that this was the only hotel in this back-country town. She'd had a clear view of every one of the half-dozen businesses nestled together on the main street, and the only side road had been dark with private residences, already settled in for the night.

A brisk wind caught at her hair as she stepped out of the car, and she was quick to do up the buttons of her blazer. Still, the cool of the evening did help her shake off some of her weariness after so many hours of tense driving – driving spent trying not to worry about the reason for her unplanned trip.

Opening the door to the front office, she was bombarded with the stale stench of cigarettes and cheap incense, the combination almost making her gag. The obese, balding man behind the counter didn't so much as glance at her. "We're all full up," he grunted in greeting.

"I'm looking for a friend of mine who found a room here," she replied, approaching the counter. "He's from out of town."

He still didn't look up. "Everyone here tonight's from out of town. This week's the Cow Chip Throwing Festival down at Five Mile Creek."

"This man didn't come for that. He, uh, fell out of the back of a truck?" she winced even as she said it, still vague on the details.

The man grunted again. "The city slicker. Room 48."

She left without a word; he wouldn't have noticed if she _had_ said anything. Mounting the rickety stairs, she searched out the correct room, and took a deep, steadying breath which did nothing to slow the erratic pounding in her chest.

Her partner was behind this door.

Her partner who had shunned her for weeks.

Her partner who had ditched their whole team to follow another detective – a dangerous one – and who had somehow found himself shipped off to this Godforsaken place.

Her partner who didn't love her any more.

Raising her fist, she knocked heavily, swaying slightly on her feet as she did so. She had been driving for too many hours, determined to help him in spite of everything, but now that she no longer had the road to concentrate on she could feel the fatigue crashing in on her.

There was no way she would be able to make the drive back tonight. Hopefully Castle would be in better shape.

The door swung open.

He wasn't.

An ugly purple bruise bloomed across one cheekbone; a fresh cut adorned his eyebrow. He was absently rubbing a hand through his already mussed hair, wincing a little as his muscles stretched.

In spite of his injuries, though, her eyes swept hungrily down his form, clad only in a plain white t shirt and green-and-black boxer shorts; his muscular arms, broad chest, and muscular thighs very much on display as his looming form dominated the door frame.

Her mouth went dry.

_Damn_.

How had he managed to hide that physique, working with her day after day at the precinct?

For one blissful moment, his eyes blazed wide with every ounce of adoration he had ever bestowed on her, like the sun bursting through storm clouds, allowing her to bask in glorious warmth after weeks of being shut out in the cold. Then he slammed the mask of his indifference down, contorting every feature to become the desolate husk of what had once been her partner, and she was left out in the cold once more.

"Beckett, what do you want?" His voice was gravel, his hair on end, his features drawn and lined with exhaustion.

Her first reaction was a white-hot flash of anger that crackled like lightning through her whole body at his words, at his ongoing indifference, and the easy way with which he had replaced her with another detective. But the anger was soothed almost immediately by the rolling wave of relief at finding him here, mostly unharmed, after so many hours of travel to reach him, worst case scenario after worst case scenario playing through her mind's eye as her Dodge Charger ate up the miles far too slowly for her peace of mind. Combined with the surge of arousal that flooded her veins at the sight of his state of undress, and the result was a devastating cocktail of emotions strong enough to tongue tie a far more eloquent wordsmith than she.

"A-Alexis called me," she stuttered, cursing her inability to form words.

He frowned. "You didn't need to go to the trouble, Detective. I told Alexis I'd find a way home tomorrow."

She blundered on, ignoring his hint to leave her alone. "It's what partners do," she said a little too brightly.

They tried not to stare at each other for a long moment, her breath catching in her chest as she searched his eyes for evidence of a whispered confession in a graveyard on a sunny day almost a year ago, her gut twisting as she drew a blank.

"I'm not getting rid of you any time soon, am I?" he asked, dropping his arms, his whole body deflating – yet there was just a hint of affection in his voice, something that reminded her of his interactions with Alexis, just enough to keep her from spinning around and running away.

He sighed a little dramatically, held open the door for her to come in. The room was crowded, the double bed complete with '70s-style floral bedspread dominating the tiny space, two chairs and the smallest table she'd ever seen pushed up against the wall opposite the foot of the bed, with just enough space to maneuver between the two to reach the door to the bathroom on the wall opposite the front door.

She perched on a not-quite-stable dining chair, the one not housing his shirt and jeans. "Make yourself at home, by all means," he muttered a moment too late, clinging to the last of his defenses like a cloak, yet his gaze on her was hungry – for the first time, she felt like she was doing the right thing in his eyes by coming after him.

She bit her lip, holding back the sharp retort that was all too ready to come out. It wouldn't solve anything; they were nowhere near their usual banter. Instead, she took a deep breath and schooled her voice into something more gentle. "What happened with Slaughter? Alexis seemed... a little fuzzy on the details." And more than a little put out at having to turn to her father's erstwhile partner for help. Alexis had been panicked, her accusatory tone reminiscent of another conversation held outside a bank at a barricade. Whatever was going on with him, it was definitely affecting Kate's tenuous relationship with his daughter.

He sank wearily onto the edge of the bed facing the window; judging by the way the covers were strewn, it was the side he had been sleeping on. He stared out through the gaps in the blinds as he answered her in a monotone.

"We got in a brawl, or Slaughter did. I did my best to help, but I got pummeled." He flicked her a nervous glance, a blush of shame creeping up his neck as he spoke. "We were out on the street, and I vaguely remember Slaughter sitting me down on the open back of a delivery truck that was double parked, while he was bagging and tagging our suspects." He turned to face her, frustration and guilt warring for place in his features, his eyes a cold gray. "That's the last thing I remember. When I came to, the back of the truck was closed and I was stuck in there with no service on my phone. I was in there for about an hour before we pulled up outside the general store across the road there. Gave the driver a fright when he opened the back."

"I can imagine," she replied evenly, slipping into detective mode to keep her emotions contained – but her fingers itched for her service weapon, for the opportunity to seek Slaughter out and do him bodily damage for putting her partner at such risk; her blood thundered through her veins at the risk Castle had taken in participating; her heart was left with a yawning cavity at the image of him waking up alone, in a truck, with no hope of rescue. She wanted to scream at him for being so stupid. She wanted to hurt him, to make him feel something – anything – for her again. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and kiss his frown away.

He seemed to rouse at her words, standing and facing her, looking through her once again. "So what now? Are you driving back tonight?"

"That's up to you."

"Don't let me put a crimp in your plans, Detective. I can just hitch a ride to the next town over, and then–"

"If you think I'm leaving without you, Castle..."

"Really, I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble." He plastered on his publicity smile, as if she was an unwelcome guest crashing his party.

She gritted her teeth. "I drove for almost six hours to come get you, Castle. I'm not going back without you."

"I can figure it out for myself." His stubbornness would be adorable if it wasn't so frustrating.

"Dammit, Castle, I promised Alexis!" The girl might not exactly love her right now, but she knew Castle would do anything for his daughter. Even accept a ride from someone he apparently hated now.

He glared at her, but didn't come up with any further excuses. Instead, he crossed the room to the chair opposite hers. "There's no point in driving back until you've rested. Give me your keys and I'll curl up in the back seat of your car," he said, reaching for his jeans.

She gasped, disconcerted by both the conversation and his sudden proximity. "Castle, I can't kick you out of your room!"

He stared at her, all but tapping his foot in annoyance. "What option do we have? I got the last free room."

She sighed. "Castle, stay. I'll sleep in the car."

He snorted, wrestling with his jeans – the act so intimate, she felt a blush stealing up her cheeks. He didn't seem to notice. "Like I'm going to let that happen."

"I'll sleep on the floor then." She glanced around, hoping a large enough stretch of floorspace would present itself to aid her cause.

He succeeded in righting his jeans – one leg had been inside out – and sighed, stilling suddenly. "Just take the bed."

Her eyes roved over his bruises. "No, Castle, you're hurt. I'll take the floor."

"And my mother would never let me hear the end of it. I'd rather share than that." He waggled his eyebrows like it was meant to be a joke, but his words pierced deep.

"Really, I'll be fine," she demurred. Not all that long ago, he would have jumped at the chance to share such an intimate space with her.

"Is sharing a bed with me really so repulsive to you?" he demanded. The shutters had slammed down over his eyes once more, sucking out everything airy and light, discarding any progress she might have made since her arrival. He sounded _done_, his shoulders slumping in defeat, and her eyes jerked up, just in time to see his drop away.

Wasn't _he_ the one finding _her_ repulsive?

He ignored her reproachful stare, flinging his jeans back onto the chair and turning away. "Fine. Do what you like. You always do anyway. Now, if you'll excuse me, Detective, I'm going back to bed. Feel free to watch TV or whatever – it won't disturb me. Bathroom's through there. I think I left at least one clean towel."

He climbed into bed on the side nearer the door, turning away from the room and settling down. Beckett was left sitting there as he clicked off the bedside lamp, leaving only the pale glow of the security lights outside beaming in through the gaps between threadbare curtains.

She sat there for several moments, eyes stinging and throat burning with unshed tears at his brusque words. There was no way in hell she was going to cry in front of him after that speech. Yet she found herself staring, unable to tear her eyes away from the lump in the bed that was the man she was irrevocably in love with, in spite of the evidence before her that he could hardly stand to be in the same room as her. It was intimate, watching him sleep. The incident with the tiger had been too highly charged to really enjoy the experience, and she found herself understanding for the first time why he had spent so many hours in an uncomfortable chair as she did paperwork.

She was riveted; he was fascinating, shuffling to make himself more comfortable, grunting into his pillow has he resettled himself. A vision rose in her mind of the future, maybe five or ten years from now, of her sliding off her heels at the loft door, of tiptoeing into _their_ room at the end of a long day at the precinct, of watching him slumber for several long minutes before stripping off her clothes and joining him in _their_ bed, waking him with kisses and touches and whispers of love – of drawing that grunt from him again as she snaked her hand down between their bodies to make sure he was fully awake, before following with her mouth, disappearing under the covers even as his barely awake brain began to process what was going on, watching as she wrapped her mouth around him with a devilish smile, and–

It was only when he shifted under the covers and huffed to himself that she realized exactly how far her thoughts had wandered, and, standing hurriedly, she all but ran into the bathroom, her cheeks flaming.

A shower, no matter how questionable in quality, sounded perfect right about now. She needed time and space away from her partner to cool down after that all-too-real daydream.

It would also give him time to fall asleep properly, she hoped. She was thrilled at the idea of sharing a bed with him; it was one of her most common fantasies, especially this last year, to imagine that Castle was taking up his share of the vast expanse beside her in her bed. Yet he was so closed off to her lately, so moody, that her stomach dropped and her palms grew clammy at the thought of him being awake to coldly witness perhaps the only fulfillment she would ever get of her bed-sharing fantasy.

She wanted to take notes, to remember. She wanted to tuck this experience away in her heart of hearts, to keep her warm on the long nights ahead, should he carry on down this path of rejecting her.

Turning on the faucet, she stripped out of her clothes, finding the one clean towel her partn- Castle had mentioned. Glancing around the bathroom, it became apparent that he had made some toiletry purchases, as there was a new toothbrush, toothpaste, shaving gear, and, in the shower, soap – all of which were too good to be complimentary. She used a little of his toothpaste on her finger – better than nothing, and she wasn't sure he'd appreciate her using his new toothbrush – then played with the shower faucets until she found the exact place where the water wasn't scalding but still had at least some pressure. She then stepped under the spray.

The shower smelled undeniably of _him. _Her eyes slammed shut as the water sluiced over her, and her mind conjured more fantasies of him – this time featuring him throwing open the unlockable bathroom door, tearing his clothes off, and joining her; of his big hands chasing water drops across her skin, her whole body ablaze, dwarfed and surrounded by his broad frame.

She washed as quickly as she could, hands shaking as she ran his soap across her skin, mingling her scent with his. Stepping out of the shower, she dried off before facing her next dilemma. She hadn't planned to stay the night, had come straight from the precinct when she received Alexis' call, stopping only for takeout at a gas station along the way.

Underwear and the tank top she had under her work shirt had to be it. It was about the same as Castle was wearing, anyway.

Once she was dressed, she carried the rest of her clothes out to the other room, draping them across the chair she had appropriated earlier, before turning to the bed. There was enough glow from the lights outside to clearly illuminate his apparently sleeping form, hunched up on one side of the bed.

As quietly as she could, she approached the other side. He hadn't left any bedding out for her, so she really didn't have a choice. She slipped under the covers, trying not to jostle him.

The mattress was a little lumpy, but overall, not too bad.

She sighed as she let her back find rest, before rolling on her side to face her partner.

So near, and yet so far.

She watched the rise and fall of his chest, admired the solid wall of his back, wondering what it would feel like to sweep her hands across the muscles she knew resided there.

And almost without conscious thought, her hand slipped out from under the covers, sliding along the sheets until just the very tips of her fingers skimmed feather-light against the soft cotton of his shirt.

She yearned for him, even as he slumbered within touching distance. She missed him, missed his smile, his laughter, his love. She longed for him to roll over, tug her into his arms while cracking one liners and making suggestive jokes about them being in this position in the first place. She longed to be able to press her hand against him properly, to wrap her arms around him and tell him that she loves him back. Instead, she continued her feather-like caress of the fold of his t-shirt.

In a single, swift movement, he threw the covers off, stood, and paced away from the bed – all so suddenly that she didn't know what to do aside from snatch her hand back and stare at him with round eyes.

She had honestly believed him to be asleep. Clearly, he wasn't.

He turned on the bedside lamp before facing her, his eyes blazing.

"I can't do this anymore." It was an accusation, a demand for answers, and not for the first time in the past weeks, she had the sensation that she was failing him simply by not knowing what was in his head.

She sat up slowly, blinking in the dim light, clutching the bedspread, needing some kind of shield against the brutal blunt force of his fury.

"Can't do what anymore, Castle?" she asked carefully, scrambling for her poker face even as panic overwhelmed her, her earlier fears coming to life, making her lightheaded, making her stomach churn.

Oh, God.

In her gut, she knew this was it. He wasn't just talking about sleeping here. He wasn't coming back to the precinct.

She had lost him.

It was over.

_Oh, God._

"This!" He waved his hand vaguely at the bed, at her, at himself. She must have shown at least some of her confusion, because this time, he continued. "I can't lie there with you touching me like you care when clearly you don't. I can't pretend any more, Beckett." He paced away, staring at the window next to the door that faced down across the parking lot and the main street, his stance rigid almost to the point of shaking, her brief glimpse of his face dark and thunderous.

She gripped her hands together in her lap, taking a deep, steadying breath before replying, speaking quietly in an attempt to hide the hurt. "What makes you think I don't care about you?"

"You all but said so," he mumbled, his back resolutely to her.

"What? When?" To gain some kind of equal footing, she pushed the covers back and rose from the bed. Having a physical barrier between them didn't hurt, either.

"During the bombing case."

"I did not!"

"Did too, Beckett. I was there."

"When?"

He turned then, eyes full of furious hurt, tears that threatened but refused to fall. "When you told that suspect you remembered your shooting. You remembered every second of it. Every damn second. And you were okay to lie about it to me, but the moment it becomes a useful interrogation technique, why, by all means, throw it out there for the world to know." All the fight drained out of him, leaving him slumped and broken. "That's when," he finished on a whisper.

A sob rose in her chest, threatening to break free.

She choked it down, though. Now was not the time for self-pity.

Shame burned across her cheeks as she watched all the work she had put into healing over the past year go up in flames before her.

No wonder he had been so distant.

She dropped her eyes, staring at her hands wringing each other so tightly her knuckles were white. "And the only explanation is that I didn't care."

That gave him pause. "Yes?"

"That's why you've been different these past few weeks."

"I just... I needed time to get over you, Kate. That's all. I didn't want to be the guy who stops working with you just because I misread a few signals. Wise ass, not jackass, remember?" His voice was raw, cracking; his eyes windows of misery and humiliation, even as he screwed his mouth into something that clearly attempted – and failed – to be a self-deprecating smile.

She could hear Dr. Burke's voice in her head. _What do you want, Kate?_ Taking her courage in both hands, she forced the words out. "What if you were wrong?"

"I-I'm sorry?"

"Is that how you'd write it?" she asked instead, raising a challenging eyebrow at him. "A little cliché, don't you think?"

His mouth closed with a snap as he stared at her, weighing her words.

"Sometimes life doesn't happen the way I would write it," he said eventually, but he was looking intrigued rather than empty, like they were at the precinct and he was testing a theory.

She played into that, prompting him. "Just humor me, Castle."

"If I was wrong, it means you'd have another reason," he said slowly, raising hopeful blue eyes to meet hers.

"Like what?" Maybe it was unfair, making him do the work, but she knew him well enough to know he wouldn't be satisfied until he had the whole story, and she needed to be sure he truly understood. She could fill in the blanks later.

"Well, you'd just been shot by a sniper at Montgomery's funeral..." he began, piecing together the time line. He took a tentative step toward the small amount of floor space at the foot of the bed, toward her, and she matched his movements. She wanted to be nearer him, now that they were – hopefully – on the same page. She no longer needed to be barricaded by the bed; she wanted him to see all of her, and to see all of him in return, open and honest and without subtext. She nodded along with his words, encouraging him to do what he did best – to find the right words, to articulate the story. "Maybe you were worried that whoever shot you was going to come after you again? Or after the people you care about? So you isolated yourself away from the city... to protect us?"

Her eyes flickered down to his mouth, then back up again, delighting in the way his eyes darkened, raking over her face. It was so easy to get lost in the cadence of his voice as he masterfully wove a story.

"I'd say you've got yourself a solid theory there, Castle," she replied, her voice husky, unable to stop her grin at the wonder on his face.

He stopped short. "The sniper case," he said, staring at her in concern.

She nodded, blushing, ducking her head and looking up at him through her eyelashes. "I was diagnosed with PTSD. I've been seeing a therapist ever since I got back to the city."

"That long?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows.

She dropped her eyes. "I just wanted to put in the work, be better."

He stepped closer, into her personal space, reaching a hand out to sweep a curl behind her ear, his sudden touch enough to startle her into meeting his eyes once again. "Why, Kate? You haven't flinched in months. What are you still working toward?"

She felt a rush of warmth rise up within her as she stared up into his eyes – so warm and blue and full of the love that had been missing for weeks. His scent, his presence, surrounded her completely, and she felt a rush of freedom – of hope – as she took her courage in both hands and stepped off the precipice, trusting him to catch her.

Burke's voice echoed in her mind once more, and this time she was able to find the words to answer him.

_What do you want, Kate? _

"You," she choked out on a whisper. "I wanted to be better – for you."

He cupped her cheek so tenderly she could cry, his eyes full, brimming with hope and love. "You're already the most remarkable person I've ever met," he breathed, his face splitting into a blinding smile.

She leaned into his touch, savoring the feel of his fingertips sweeping across her skin, setting it on fire. "You deserve everything, Castle."

"The only thing I want is you." His eyes flickered down to her lips before inching toward her, pausing only a breath away from meeting her lips and waiting for her. Always waiting.

Pushing up with her toes, she sealed her mouth to his. His lips were silky and soft, and he teased her mouth open, tasting and tormenting her, and she allowed herself to be carried along, reveling in the joy of being able to claim his mouth after so many months of self-imposed abstinence, leaving her lightheaded and clinging to him for balance.

After several long, slow, drugging kisses, he pulled away. She leaned in to chase him, blinking her eyes open as if waking from a dream, to find him watching her. His gaze was filled with wonder, and he tilted into her, resting his forehead against hers, a breathless smile gracing his kiss-puffed lips, and she slid her fingers up the broad expanse of his chest, feeling the thunder of his heart matching the rhythm of her own. His exhale danced across the already sensitive nerve endings in her lips, and she felt it all the way down her spine.

"Wow," he whispered.

She grinned up at him. "Wow is right."

He straightened up just enough to press another kiss to her forehead, gathering her into his chest and sliding his arms around her. She burrowed into him, letting her head to fall to the place where his shoulder and neck joined, allowing her to breathe in that indefinable scent that was uniquely her partner that lingered on the collar of his t-shirt. The muscles of his arms banded around her, strong and sure, cradling her with a heart aching tenderness, and he swayed to a gentle, soothing rhythm only he could hear. One of his hands smoothed up her spine so he could run his fingers through her hair in a pleasantly distracting manner, and she hummed in appreciation, her muscles turning to liquid under his touch. The events of the evening were finally catching up with her as she all but drifted off in his arms, stifling a yawn and snuggling into his embrace.

The low rumble of his voice broke the silence, vibrating through his chest and into hers. "Kate? We should go to bed. It's late."

She lifted her head, arching an eyebrow in response, smirking.

He gave an exaggerated gasp at her insinuation. "To sleep!" His face broke out in a grin as he released her, tugging her toward the bed. "It's late, and we have a long drive tomorrow. We have plenty of time for... everything else... when we get back to the city, don't we?"

She brushed another kiss across his lips in reassurance, and because she could. "Of course. I'm not going anywhere, Castle. At least, not without you."

He slowly separated from her, hands sliding, arm stretching to keep hold of her hand until he absolutely couldn't reach her any more, heading back around to his side of the bed, and she paused to watch the distracting play of his muscles under his t-shirt, her cheeks heating as her earlier fantasy played in her mind.

The tiny sample of the real thing had already blown that fantasy out of the water.

She slipped back around to her side, exchanging a shy grin with him as she did. They settled under the covers, his insistent hands tugging her into himself so she was pillowed against his chest and he could once again wrap his arms around her. She coasted her fingers back and forth across his chest, indulging in touching him as she had been dreaming about for years now, until he caught her hands and shifted on top her, pressing her down with his thick body, his forehead to hers, the intensity of his reaction unmistakeable in his eyes and the harsh, hot breath heating her cheek.

"You're killing me here." She heard his struggle for mastery over his body in the groan in his voice. She laughed, breathless, clutching his shirt and pulling him towards her mouth. His lips were eager, his mouth inviting, and she dove in again, prizing the seam of his mouth open. She was addicted already to the taste of him, their kisses escalating into stroking, exploring tongues and wandering hands, setting her skin on fire and making her toes curl. He broke free of her mouth to scatter kisses across her face before bending down to nibble his way down her neck, his teeth scraping and nipping at the paper-thin skin over her pulse. She threw her head back, gasping for air as he scattered her nerve endings with the hot press of his open mouth, gripping at his hair, his t-shirt, the sheets, writhing in his embrace, tangling their legs, seeking friction against his thigh, desperate to alleviate the burn of arousal flooding her system.

He growled, releasing her neck with a final press of lips, gripping her hips with both his hands. "Not that this isn't the most fun I've had in – I'd rather not say how long – but if we're going to get any sleep tonight, we need to slow this down."

She rolled her hips deliberately, making sure to press as much of herself as possible up against him, molding her curves to his iron-cast muscles. She then craned her neck up so she could nip at his earlobe, soothing it with her tongue, before whispering in a husky voice, "You sure about that?"

He groaned. "I'm trying to do the honorable thing here!" he complained, and she laughed, curling into him once more. She pressed a kiss to his chest and yawned, exhaustion from her long drive and the rollercoaster of emotions she had experienced since her arrival all catching up on her at once.

"I think sleep's going to happen whether I want it to or not," she mumbled.

He tightened his arms around her, holding her secure in his embrace as her eyes slipped shut. "Kate? I love you."

She hummed, filled with warmth. "Love you, too. G'night, Castle," she slurred as she drifted off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So this was meant to be posted... almost a year ago. I'm so sorry for keeping you all waiting! This chapter has gone back and forth to my amazing beta Kellie/Freewheeler more times than I can count, and thanks to her incredible input has grown into one of the best pieces I feel I've ever written and grown me as a writer.**

**Nic, you've had ANOTHER birthday since the first chapter was published, so, uh... happy birthday again?**

**This story is now rated M.  
**

* * *

The slow, steady rumble of a diesel engine broke into her dreams, disturbing the exaggerated quietness of this strange town. Or perhaps it was the quietness that woke her? A Manhattanite at heart, even summers spent at her father's cabin still surrounded her with the sounds of the woods and the distant hum of boat engines on the lake. This town, by contrast, was deathly quiet, still solidly asleep against the encroaching early morning. Kate blinked into awareness, a smile stealing across her face as she shifted her focus away from the world outside the room. There were far more pleasant things to think about right here.

An arm was banded around her waist, holding her firm and close to the solid wall of heat at her back. Rhythmic, warm puffs of air on the back of her neck told her Castle was still sound asleep, his big body curled around hers, and she couldn't stop the grin spreading across her face. Everything was warm and cozy, her insides humming as last night came back to her. Moving slowly, she managed to dislodge his arm just enough to turn in his embrace so that she could watch him unobserved.

He was sharing her pillow, only inches away, his features slack with slumber. A few locks of hair were standing on end; a few more fell across his forehead, and her heart tripped at how boyish he looked in this relaxed state.

She reached out to touch him, flicking his bangs away from his forehead, then feathering the pad of her finger across his brow, down the noble line of his nose, sweeping a caress across his cheekbone and down the stubble of his jaw.

His eyes blinked open, guileless in the pre-dawn light, and his face broke into a dopey smile. "Kate!" his voice was rough with sleep, filled with awe as if her name was the sum total of his every desire.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she replied, her lip catching between her teeth.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly into him and nuzzling at her neck, and she arched back to allow him access. How the _hell_ did he find that spot so quickly?

She slid one leg across the firm breadth of him, and pushed back from his seeking mouth so she could rise, straddling him. His thighs created a firm and solid pressure between hers, and a ripple of pleasure zipped through her. She played at the skin she could reach under the hem of his t-shirt as she laughed down at him, relishing the way his eyes flared wide, his hands tugging at her, pulling her closer. Bending down so that her curls cocooned them, she nudged his nose with her own before claiming his lips in a lazy slide. His mouth fell open to her assault and she slicked her tongue inside, seeking the addictive flavor of him.

Her hands stroked across the planes and dips of the torso that had distracted her from her paperwork for four years, and she nipped and soothed his bottom lip as his fingers dug into her hips even as she rolled them into his, steadying her on her perch on his thighs. His groan was guttural, his grip on her convulsive.

"Kate," he panted as they broke for air, but she smirked, tasting the bob of his Adam's apple, salty and rough. Her body slid up his as he gasped for breath, his chest heaving as she sprawled on top of him, trapping the evidence of his arousal between them, his length pressing into her belly, sparks of heat sluicing through her.

He caught her by the elbows, holding her still as his eyes bored into hers. His smile dropped away completely, his voice graveled and low. "Just so we're clear, because I am done with talking around things – if we do this, it's for keeps. No going back. You're in this as much as I am."

His authoritative tone made her insides clench, and she cupped his jaw so that she could press her lips against his, tasting the line of his mouth, before tilting her forehead forward to rest on his, sharing his air, breathing him in.

"I'm done running, Castle. I want this – you," she said, infusing her voice with conviction, her heart soaring at being able to express her truest desire.

In a ninja-like move she didn't know he was capable of, he rolled them so that he was hovering over her, bracing his upper body with his elbows, and allowing his hips to fall into the cradle of hers.

She hissed at the contact, nerve endings on fire.

He scattered a dusting of kisses across her jaw, down her throat, and she arched into him – but when he blew a raspberry on her neck, she shrieked at the unexpected playfulness, flopping back onto the mattress in a peal of laughter. He grinned down at her, and her breath caught at how much had changed since last night. Her heart skipped as he gazed into her eyes, so full of boyish charm, and she swore to herself she would never hurt him again.

She reached up to run her fingers through his hair, and he leaned into her palm, seeking her touch. She guided his mouth down to meet hers in what began as soft, languid kisses. It wasn't until their teeth clashed together and her cheeks were burning that she realized she was smiling into the kiss, wide and open – and his expression matched hers. She laughed, bubbling with joy, then took a deep, steadying breath to calm her pounding pulse – caught his gaze filled with so much tenderness shining up at her, and surged forward to kiss him again in earnest.

She skimmed her hands up under his t-shirt to play her fingertips against the muscles of his back. He broke away with a grunt so he could shuck the tee, leaving him only in his boxers.

Her mouth went dry.

His torso wasn't sculpted – there was no six-pack on display – but he was broad, a solid wall of comfort and hot skin against hers. She stared at him, unable to look away, felt her skin flush and her nipples harden.

Of course he noticed.

His eyes blazed into hers, and her fingers stumbled under his scrutiny as she peeled off her tank top. It snagged in her hair, which flopped down into her eyes, and her cheeks burned as she blew the strands away. Dipping her head, she balled the shirt in her hands, even as her nipples pebbled in the cool morning air, and she found herself holding her breath, waiting for his laughter at her lack of coordination. His stillness prompted her to lift her gaze, to find his pupils dilated as he gazed up at her, his lips parted. She watched his eyes sweep down her chest, feeling the answering blush as his heated gaze swept her skin like fingertips, caressing her – until his eyes shifted to the center of her chest, and she saw the blue depths of his eyes change from dark arousal to a heartbreaking melancholy.

"Kate," he whispered, his voice ragged, and he glanced up at her as if to ask permission.

She nodded.

Stretching out his hand, he lightly traced the now small, barely noticeable depression between her breasts.

She held her breath as his fingers brushed the mark, giving him a moment to come to terms with the specter which had haunted them both for almost a year. A cemetery on a sunny day. Her breath stuttering in her lungs, her ears ringing with the phantom crack of a rifle. But she pushed the images back and focused on the man in front of her. She gasped, arching into him as he tasted her scar, then nipped and nibbled his way down to one of her breasts, cupping the other in his hand, lifting his eyes to hold hers with a steadfast, unwavering heat.

His mouth on the flesh of her breast heated her blood, and she writhed under him. He seemed to be determined to avoid her nipple as he worked around each mound, and it wasn't enough. She needed him to take her in, take the sensitive peak that he was skirting into his mouth. Own it. Then the rough rasp of his tongue on her nipple and the tug of his teeth, and her nerve endings were on fire.

Her eyes slipped shut and she clawed at the sheets, at his back, running fingers through his hair and tugging, guiding, pleading as his hot mouth drove her wild. Then the chill of the room and the firm pressure of his fingers tweaking, and her eyes flew open again as his lips wrapped around her other breast, and she writhed on the sheets beneath him, seeking friction where there was not enough. Her hips rolled up to meet his, chasing the firm, intimate press of him, and his unoccupied hand slid down to hold her in place.

Just as the sensation was becoming too much, the cool air of the room rushed across her as he released her breast, grazing it with his teeth as he let it go. She tugged him to move back up to her mouth, and huffed as he ignored her – the huff becoming a sharp intake of breath as he nipped and nuzzled his way down her ribcage. Her nerve endings sparked as he moved over her navel, then – she heard herself growl at him in frustration – skipped over her panties, detouring away to the soft flesh of the hollow of her hip and down one thigh. She cursed, managing to lift her head high enough to glare down at him. He paused his ministrations, resting his chin on her thigh as he blinked up at her, the look on his face all too innocent.

Narrowing her eyes, she growled, "Get on with it, Castle, or I swear to God..."

"Patience, Detective," he replied, hooking his thumbs into the elastic of her probably ruined panties and sliding them down her legs. Throwing them over his shoulder somewhere, he paused where he was kneeling at her feet, his eyes tracking slowly up her body. Her breath caught in her throat; the way he gazed upon her for the first time reminiscent of a starving man at a banquet, and her skin prickled in anticipation.

His eyes were black by the time they met hers, dangerous and filled with delicious intent. His fingers on her ankles was her only warning before the heat of his mouth pressed a delicate kiss to the bone protruding there. The trail of his lips up her calf left goosebumps, and she shivered as he paid extra attention to the dip of her knee. She closed her eyes, overwhelmed, as he moved up her inner thigh, giving herself over to the sensations this man was creating within her. Gripping the sheets, she startled as one of his hands covered hers, prying her fingers away so he could link their hands together.

She looked down at him, to find him settled between her legs, staring up at her, eyes filled with awe.

"I love you," he said, eyes boring into hers, before lowering his mouth to taste her for the first time.

At first contact with his mouth, she flung her head back with a shocked indrawn breath. Her hips all but launched off the bed before he brought the hand joined with hers across her stomach to pin her down. His broad shoulders propped her leg wider, giving him full access to feast on her.

She shivered as his tongue slid through her folds, and when he flattened his tongue against her clit, her whole body contorted in ecstasy. He hiked her leg over his shoulder driving his tongue deeper, devouring her. She panted as he ran his fingers up her inner thigh, and all her breath left her as he slipped one thick digit into her, then a second.

She had imagined what this would feel like on lonely nights in her empty apartment, had fantasized about him touching her so intimately, had cried out in frustration as her own slim digits were no substitute for the dream of the thickness of his. This reality made her fantasies a joke.

He slid his fingers in and out of her, sucking and licking in tandem movements, stoking the arousal that coursed through her like wildfire. She moaned, cried out, squeezed the fingers of his other hand, twisting against the delicious combination of hot tongue, thick fingers, rough stubble all working her higher and higher, as he played her like an instrument, adjusting his movements to her every reaction as she gasped and stuttered, rolling her hips and gripping his hand.

She shattered, emitting a whine that was at least partially his name, her whole body tensing, falling, as her orgasm rolled through her, consuming her, swelling and releasing, and he hummed in appreciation, continuing his ministrations until she twisted away from him, oversensitive nerve endings frazzled from sensation.

She tugged him up, curling into him, boneless, as she recovered, and he held her tenderly, sweeping a hand up and down her spine, soothing her. She guided his mouth to hers, kissing him languidly, tasting herself on his tongue.

It was all too tempting to run her hands down his chest, enjoying the jump and play of his muscles under her fingertips, and she grinned into his mouth as her hands skimmed down to play with the elastic band of his boxers, before boldly palming him through the silky fabric, testing the weight and length of him in her hand with a slow slide. He gasped, his hips jerking instinctively into her hand, and he broke away from her mouth to stare at her, his eyes dark with arousal.

"Kate, I don't have protection," he pleaded, and she paused, blinking through the haze of lust to process his words.

"I'm on the pill, but..." her voice trailed off, and she looked up at him uncertainly, her bottom lip slipping between her teeth.

"I'm clean," he assured her, his eyes full of earnest honesty.

The humiliation of the past few weeks burned through her, a garish tableaux starring a blonde flight attendant, and she focused her eyes somewhere over his left shoulder as she ground out the question she had to ask. "Even after the last few weeks...?"

"I didn't sleep with Jacinda, Kate." His voice was rough, deep, and allowed no room for argument.

Her eyes flew back to meet his, her mouth parting to question him further, and it was only then she saw the pink on his cheeks, the self-loathing in his eyes. "You didn't?"

He shook his head. "I nearly did. I... tried to. But it was all wrong. She was wrong. She wasn't you, and... and I felt like I was betraying you, so I didn't. It didn't seem fair to her to use her like that, either."

She reached up, cupping his jaw in her hand, relief rolling through her even as her gut twisted in shame at her part in the past few weeks, and she guided his mouth down to meet hers, slicking her tongue along the seam of his lips. "I love you, Castle."

She arched up into him, intending to claim his mouth again, but his hand slid up to her shoulder to still her. "I love you, too. Enough to not do this til we're home and have the proper protection, if that's what you want."

She shook her head as she brushed her lips against his, shoving at his shoulder to get him to sit up. "I trust you, and I have the rest covered. I want you," she mumbled against his mouth, one hand curling around his biceps and pushing until he rolled onto his back. She broke away from his mouth, kneeling to help guide his boxers over his bobbing erection and sliding them down his legs, before copying his move from earlier and flinging the garment over her shoulder somewhere.

Crawling up to straddle his legs, she swirled a single finger over his tip before sliding her hand down his length in a long, steady stroke. He hissed, reaching down to catch her wrist.

"Kate, please. I don't think I can handle much more teasing. Please?" he begged, and she took pity on him, bending down to kiss him once more even as she positioned his tip at her entrance, crying out as she sank down on him, eyes fluttering shut as she stretched to accommodate the delicious length of him. Her muscles pulled tight, humming in pleasure as she fully sheathed him, and she gripped his shoulder with her hand in warning to keep still as she took a deep, steadying breath, her heart bursting with joy at the delightful intimacy of their joining. One of his huge palms cupped the back of her head, and her eyes popped open to find his shimmering with awestruck wonder. "Kate," he whispered, and she lurched toward him, meeting his mouth again as she lifted up almost completely off him before sinking back down again. His hands slid up to grip her hips, and she began to move over him.

He angled forward to capture one of her breasts in his mouth and she threw her head back on a cry, grasping at his shoulders and hooking her fingers up into his hair as she undulated over him, her urgency increasing as he began to thrust up into her. She moved with him, finding a rhythm, their bodies sliding and colliding, working together, everything coiling, building as she met him stroke for stroke.

"Castle – I need..." she ground out, chest heaving as everything tightened, radiating out in a hot rush from the base of her spine, sending needles to her nerve endings with her approaching orgasm.

She felt him release her breast and pull away, groaning at the loss of him even as he rolled them, hovering over her. She hitched her leg higher around his waist, tugging him closer, breathing his name as he sank into her once more, the change of angles making her pant, his thrusts filling her more deeply. She sank her teeth into his shoulder as she tilted her hips to meet his once more, scattered and centered all at once.

He then began to move, torturously slowly, and she arched into him, adjusting more fully to this new, deeper angle, the intimacy of the dance tearing at her heart, filling her, making her fly as her body twined with his. He braced himself on his elbows, using one palm to ease her head back down to the pillow, locking eyes with her.

"Castle, please." She needed more – that last little something to achieve euphoria, her body taut, stretching to its limits, and she was aching for the coil to snap.

"I love you. So much, Kate," he panted, so close she could see nothing but the blue rings of his irises.

"I love you, too, Castle," she whispered back.

She felt the tension in his muscles snap at her words, and he slammed into her, again and again, building the peak within her as she met his movements thrust for thrust, her own muscles straining. He snaked one hand in between them as his movements began to get sloppy, making tight, rough circles around her clit, and her body contorted as blinding pleasure seared through her, the rush making her whole body tighten as she fell apart around him, bursting and floating and thrumming. He gave a hoarse cry, emptying himself within her, his jerking movements prolonging her high as her body milked the last of his seed.

He collapsed onto her, unable to hold himself up anymore, and she snaked her arms around him, her muscles still quivering like jello even as she welcomed his weight and the slide of his damp skin against hers. She mustered all her remaining strength to lift one hand to his head, combing her fingers through the sweat slicked strands.

It was several long moments before he spoke. "I'm crushing you," he mumbled into her neck, and she shook her head. He brushed a kiss to her temple, rising up to gently slide out of her, the loss of him making her breath in sharply even as he rolled them, tucking her into his side so she could snuggle into his chest. She poked him in the ribs for moving her, sinking down against him, boneless, already missing being joined so intimately. She allowed her mind to wander, already looking forward to doing this with him again, only in a more comfortable bed.

"I'm so glad I don't have to do anything more strenuous than drive back today," she mumbled, still kind of floating.

"What time do we have to get going?" he asked.

"Whenever we like. I asked Gates yesterday for a personal day, and since we don't have any active cases, she agreed. Having said that, I'd rather get the drive over and done with," she said, smoothing her hand across his chest, enjoying the heat of his skin and the thudding rhythm of his heart beneath her fingertips. Now that she was free to touch him, she couldn't seem to stop. Thankfully, he didn't seem to mind.

"Why, Detective Beckett, what could you possibly be planning?" he asked, his eyebrows dancing.

She turned her head so her chin was propped up on his chest. "Something involving you, me, as little clothing as possible, and a bed that's more comfortable than this one," she replied, watching the bob of his Adam's apple as he gulped.

He seized her by the shoulders, smacking a loud, slopping kiss to her forehead and landing a playful swat to the bare cheeks of her ass before springing out of bed. "Let's get cleaned up and get out of here, then!" He grinned down at her. "Care to help me conserve water?"

"You do realize we'll be faster if we shower separately," she said, rolling over so she could better appreciate the spectacle of a nude Richard Castle standing before her.

He pouted. "But Kate, the drive will take _hours_!"

She stood slowly, watching his eyes glaze over as she moved toward him in all her naked glory, and kissed his pouting lips until his grin returned. "First one to the shower picks the music on the road!" she said, and darted away.

"No fair! Kate! You cheated," he yelled, and before she could reach the bathroom, his strong arms banded around her waist, lifting her back into the naked heat of his chest, the bump of skin meeting skin distracting her from the sensation of her feet leaving the ground. Then he was doing wicked things with his tongue against her neck and his feet were carrying them into the bathroom, and she relaxed into his arms as he shut the door firmly behind them.


End file.
